


Thunderstorms

by cabin12kiddos



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), Father-Son Relationship, Thunderstorms, Zeus Cabin - Freeform, grace siblings appreciation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24552343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cabin12kiddos/pseuds/cabin12kiddos
Summary: Thunderstorms are a happy memory for Jason.
Relationships: Jason Grace & Percy Jackson, Jason Grace & Thalia Grace, Jason Grace & Zeus
Comments: 2
Kudos: 36





	Thunderstorms

**Author's Note:**

> This fic ties into my headcannon that all Jupiter/Zeus kids LOVE thunderstorms. It's their happy place.

The earliest memory I have is of a thunderstorm. Not one outside my window, mind you, but crashing down in our living room. Electrified clouds circle the ceiling fan. Thunder booms harmoniously around us. The comforting smell of ozone -of  _ Dad _ \- fills the space. As a two-year-old, I remember thinking:  _ this  _ is what Elysium must feel like. 

I am young, happy. My sister is dancing around the room, awestruck at the paradise surrounding us. I feel the tingle of electricity at my fingertips, and look up to find my father, holding my hand. 

He crouches next to me, and points above us, as a thin trickle of lightning connects with his finger. It flows through his body, faintly brightening his immortal veins, when it lends itself to me. The raw power courses through my consciousness, making me feel  _ alive _ . 

At two years old I understood that most people never got that feeling in the entirety of their lives. Some people only got to feel it once, twice if they’re lucky. But me? All I had to do was call upward, and my father’s domain would answer. 

Dad looks down at me and whispers “I’m here, son.”

\--

Now I find myself in a different scene. I am older now. I am sitting on the porch of Cabin One on a blustery day, staring up at the grey sky. My sister is once again beside me. Her hair is shorter, and the makeup and piercings make her seem like an entirely different person from that little girl dancing around our living room, but the awestruck face betrays her. “Look,” she mutters, her face turning upwards. 

The clouds band together, forming a thick layer of water vapor across the atmosphere. In less than a second it seems, it’s pouring. Thunder booms and the dark day is illuminated with flashes of light. Campers run for cover, shielding themselves from the sudden storm.

I glance up from my place on the porch’s stairs to see my cousin, sticking a hand out from under Cabin Three’s roof. He locks eyes with me before retreating to the sound, no doubt hoping to enjoy our fathers’ shared domain from the safety of the water. 

Thalia pulls me forward, and I stumble out into the storm. I have sudden des ja vous as she starts to dance around the barren campfire, singing “I’m singing in the rain!” My sister -my  _ punk goth _ sister- is dancing and singing in a thunderstorm. 

I’m laughing, about to join her, when I feel an ethereal presence around my left hand. I whip my head around, wondering who, or  _ what _ , could have grabbed it, when I hear a voice, thundering in the clouds above. “I’m here, son.” 


End file.
